MAMA Doesn't Compromise Itself As Chilling Fairy Tale

BY /January 22, 2013 6:38 pm

Judging by the opening card, “Once upon a timeâ€¦,” and the child-like writing and drawings in the opening credits, “Mama” works ever so beautifully as a horror-tinged fairy tale. As Guillermo del Toro tends to do, he finds first-time directors and produces their movies (J.A. Bayona’s “The Orphanage” and Troy Nixey’s “Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark”), which are filled with calling cards from del Toro’s own “Pan’s Labyrinth,” from dark fairy-tale leanings with children in peril to the gothic, elegantly grotesque visuals. The directing bow of Andres Muschietti, “Mama” is a feature expansion of his 2008 Spanish-language short film, but it’s more involving and vividly realized than the concept of padding a two-and-a-half-minute-long jolt would suggest. Even though it leans heavily on jump-making scares, accompanied by a sudden boom! on the soundtrackâ€”and sure, they do their jobâ€”the film, with its stark yet fun tone, holds an uncompromising grip on a mother’s instincts and undying love.

Director Muschietti, his producer sister Barbara, and co-writer Neil Cross tighten the screws right from the watchably grim bang of a prologue. The existence of Mama isn’t kept a secret from the audience, but as a wise decision, it’s a while until we get a good look at her. In a subtle touch, a then-3-year-old Victoria first spots Mama outside of the cabin, telling her father that the woman is “not touching the floor.” When we catch a glimpse of the gangly, rail-thin banshee with wavy hair in a doorway or in a deep-focus shot, or hear her howling and singing a lullaby, Mama is a truly creepy creation. (She’s played by 7-foot-tall Spanish actor Javiet Botet, who brought the skin-and-bones zombie NiÃ±a Medeiros to frightening life in the “[REC]” pictures.) And when sprinting at the camera to surprise a few characters, she’s mined for a few frightful jolts, but more exposure than that deflates the terror and shows her off as a CG specter. In addition, the script wants to develop the titular Mama with a little backstory. There is some standard detective work through asylum records and expository dialogue, but most imaginative of all is a staggering, strikingly visualized dream-within-a-dream that explains the overprotective mother’s origins through the eyes of Mama herself.

Muschietti not only knows when and where to plant jolts for the easily nervy but crafts a mounting dread and sinister atmosphere out of sunny daytime juxtaposed with night terrors and rustic autumn. Also, he effectively employs the power of suggestion on more than one occasion. One shot, especially, makes expert use of framing and shows just enough; the camera rests in the hallway, with the girls’ bedroom to the right side of the frame and the door open far enough to see Lilly playing tug-of-war with someone that isn’t Victoria. If you’ve been looking for some of the most evocative, shuddering nightmare images since “Insidious,” look no further.

A few plot setups and happenings must be taken with a grain of salt, including how it takes five years until the girls are found in the cabin, let alone the crashed automobile. With the film on its way to a cliffside finale, one wishes the script didn’t rely on contrivances to get there (i.e. Lucas having a dream that points him in the right direction, Lucas and Annabel reuniting on a stretch of road). But, while everything could’ve gone off the rails from there, the final set-piece aberrates from the typical horror-movie showdown and builds to a haunting, unexpectedly heartbreaking conclusion. Valuing old-school chills over new-school gore, “Mama” works not only as an old-fashioned don’t-look-under-the-bed horror tale but a mournful ode to motherhood.